Black Aggie
by fixusi
Summary: Have you ever heard of Black Aggie? It's a statue of a grieving angel, put up by a sad man. But in the world of demons and other supernatural things, not even statues stay put. And now Sam and Dean have to fight against a lifeless statue with a cold, killing embrace. hurtLimpHospitalized!Sam, (slightly)hurtProtective!Dean. My first case!fic ever, but I tried my best. :D
1. Monsters inside us and out there

**Alright, just heard the story of Black aggie and thought it could be a good base of a fanfic. :) I hope you enjoy it, I really enjoy writing it. This is my first casefic ever, so honest response would be awesome :D **

**Sorry I haven't written for a while ! But here I am again, I hope someone missed me:D just kidding, but yeahh... hope you enjoy this (:**

**This is probably three-shot, and there is going to be hurtLimp!Sam and protective!Dean.. There may be a needing for a hospital, too. We'll see;)**

**Story of Black Aggie is copied from some website I don't remember anymore.:D**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own. ):  
Warnings: None  
****Set: on season two, after Dean told Sam about John's last words to him.**  


* * *

___So show me family  
__All the blood that I will bleed  
__I don't know where I belong  
__ I don't know where I went wrong_  


Have you ever heard a legend of Black Aggie? In case you've not heard it, it's about a life-sized bronze statue of an grieving angel, put up by a sad man. Felix Angus, sad man of the story, placed it next to her dead wive's grave in Druid Ridge Cemetery.

The angel was a rather eerie figure by day, frozen in a moment of grief and terrible pain. But at the night it was unbelievably creepy, the shroud over its head obscuring the face until you were up close to it. There was a living air about the grieving angel, as if its arms could really reach out and grab you if you weren't careful.

It didn't take long for rumors to sweep through the town and surrounding countryside. They said that the statue - nicknamed Black Aggie - was haunted by the spirit of a mistreated wife who lay beneath her feet. The statue's eyes would glow red at the stroke of midnight, and any living person who returned the statue's gaze would instantly be struck blind.

If you sat on her lap at night, the statue would come to life and crush you to death in her dark embrace. They also said that spirits of the dead would rise from their graves on dark nights to gather around the statue at night.

* * *

Sam sighed and closed the newspaper he had in front of him. No cases to be found, but maybe it wasn't too bad. They could use a break.

"I found nothing", Sam informed and glanced at his older brother who was laying on the motel room bed looking bored.

"Yeah?"

Sam nodded and covered his mouth as he yawned. He smirked and looked at the older hunter. "Yeah. But we could use a break, Dean. We've been working non-stop for a few months now."

Dean gave Sam a little look which told Sam that he was a little surprised. "Really? I am okay with that, but I never thought I'd hear that coming from you."

Sam grinned. "Guess so", he mumbled and looked at the newspaper in front of him. "I feel like I could sleep a year."  
"Go to sleep then, you've slept too little this week. I'll go grab some dinner."

Sam nodded and got up. He stretched his arms and let himself fall on his bed. Dean patted his little brother's leg as he passed him and picked the car keys. "You want some nerdy salad or what?"

Sam moaned and opened his eyes he had just closed. "I don't know. Just make sure it's something good."  
"Good is on its way", Dean replied with a smirk. He began to leave and saw a glimpse of Sam from the corner of his eye. Sam always looked so relaxed and peaceful when he slept, and this time wasn't different.

_Sam is always so tense, _Dean thought as he sat in the Impala and pulled off of the motel yard. _I shouldn't have told him what dad said to me. He doesn't sleep or eat well any more. Not a surprise, though. What would I do if dad had said something like that about me? Save Dean or kill him? _

Dean shrugged. Whatever was the thing coming for Sam, Dean would stop it or kill it -_both_- and save Sam, he would do whatever he had to do to make sure his little brother would stay_ alive_. Because it was his job.

After an awkward attempt to order a chicken salad with sweet onion dressing and a bacon hamburger Dean left the restaurant with chicken salad and chicken hamburger. He eyed the packet cautiously. "Don't you move, chicken", he muttered to his food and grinned. "No way in hell I am going to eat you, but you stay put. I think you would fly away if you got a chance, but believe me when I say I am watching you."

He let out a little laugh. "What am I doing? Talking to a hamburger? Sam would think I am insane." Dean froze for a moment and snorted. "Hell, I am insane." With that he sat down in his car and drove away. _  
_

* * *

"Sam, open the door", Dean yelled and kicked the door a bit. He had his hands full and couldn't open the door, and in a minute he heard a familiar steps and the door opened.

"Chicken salad?"  
"Yeah. I hope you like it."

Dean walked past Sam to the kitchen. Sam looked at Dean and sighed.  
"I'm not really hungry, thanks. I'll eat it later."

Dean placed the foods on the kitchen table and turned to Sam who was closing the door. Dean took support of the table and looked at Sam, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Sam asked.  
"Don't you do that, Sam", Dean said with the heart-broken voice he always used if he wanted Sam to listen very, _very_ carefully. The one he used when he really meant the words he let out.

"Do what, Dean?" Sam said and let out a breath he had been holding for a second. "Nevermind. Bobby found a case, actually, and needs us to do it."

Dean stirred and looked at Sam as he walked past Dean and grabbed his laptop. He clicked a few pages open and missed how Dean rolled his eyes in frustration. Sam was the stubbornest kid he had ever met.

"Look at this. A couple of teens ran into a ghost in an old cemetery in Pikesville and seems like it smashed one teen's ribs, causing a lot internal bleeding. His friends tried to help him but failed. He was buried yesterday."

Dean nodded and quickly read the article Sam was showing. "Alright. I guess we're going to Pikesville, Maryland then. But what about the deserved no-hunting time?"

Sam closed his laptop and shrugged. "I don't know. We'd deserve it, but that thing is killing people."  
"Yeah. True. But you are going to eat that first", Dean told Sam and pointed at the salad on the table. "I paid it, you eat it. No 'but's."

Sam shook his head and looked at Dean. "I am not hungry, really, Dean. Would you stop treating me like a little kid? 'Cause it's really annoying."

It was Dean's time to shake his head. "No way, Sammy. You're not going to eat it? Fine. But don't except me to stop treating you like a child when you act like one." He rushed past his little brother to the toilet and closed the door behind him. Dean heard Sam's steps as Sam walked to his bed and started packing his stuff.

_That stupid son of a bitch doesn't know his own good.. too stubborn to listen. It's probably because I told him about dad's last words. I shouldn't have._

After a little moment Sam's voice echoed behind the toilet door. "Come on, Dean. We should be going there already, would you mind coming out from there?"

Dean opened the door and stepped out. "Alright, I'm going to be the adult of this house. You do whatever you need to do, and do _not _eat. Because that would definitely kill you, Sam. Oh, and don't sleep, or, or... don't talk. In fact, don't do anything normal people do to survive to the next day, alright?"

Sam rolled his eye in frustration. "Don't be an asshole, Dean!"  
"I'm just trying to be a good big brother here and make you, umm, how about not kill yourself to starvation? And _I _am being an asshole. Yeah, good one."

Sam glared at Dean and shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Let's just get going, alright? I'm going to wait in the car."

Dean watched Sam as he took his duffel and walked to the door. Dean ducked his head as Sam glanced at him, avoiding eye contact. He was pissed because he was worried. Chicken salad was still on the table, untouched.

* * *

After a couple hours of sitting in Impala in silence, Sam was really uncomfortable. Dean was pissed at him, and it was alright. It happened quite often; they were brothers, after all. But the fact that dad wanted Dean to kill him.. the other fact that it was only if Dean couldn't save him first didn't matter.

His dad knew something was coming for him, and he was too busy to tell? "Hey Sam, you are going to turn evil, just for your information", would it have been too much to ask? A truth.

You got truth rarely those days.

"I gotta take a leak", Sam said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Dean nodded but never took his eyes off the road.

"Yeah, I have to stop for gas anyways. There's going to be a gas station in a few miles", Dean replied quietly. His voice told Sam that he wasn't as pissed as he was when they left, but he should still pick his every word carefully.

In a few minutes Dean pulled Impala to the gas station and Sam got out. "You need something from the store?" Sam asked and glanced at Dean who shook his head. Nodding Sam walked inside and headed to the bathrooms.

A typical, filthy, stinky gas station bathroom with three toilets. Sam took the last one and after he was done he leaned over the sink to wash his face. Cold water always made him feel more relaxed. As he splashed the icy water on his face he couldn't stop blaming himself. Had he been a bad son? He hadn't obeyed well, that was for sure. But he had always done what his father told him to do, even if it was after a fight. He had been stubborn, but that had saved his ass many times.

After a while Sam returned to the car. The old man behind the counter in the gas station read his new paper and never even noticed the brothers. They were done in five minutes and drove off.

"You alright?" Sam asked after a while, not wanting to feel the unspoken words of silence again.

"I am", Dean said and took a quick glance at Sam. "Tell me about the teen who died." Sam sighed and nodded, taking his laptop on his lap and opened it.

"So.. The kid was named Elliott. He was 15 years old, his grades were normal for a boy that age. His dad is police and mum a kindergarten teacher. He was normal teenager, Dean. Why were they in the cemetery in the middle of the night anyways?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe they were having a party or something."

Younger hunter let out a little laugh. "Three boys having a party without any kind of drugs or alcohol in a cemetery. I think it's something else."

Dean snorted. "Good point. Seems like teens do nothing but drink anymore."  
"How far are we?" Sam asked when the silence threatened to fall again.  
"About three hours."  
"Great. Wake me up when we're there."

* * *

Sam jumped when the motel room door was suddenly yanked open, but relaxed after seeing it was only Dean. He had his suit on and a matching tie.

"Hey. You found out anything?" Sam asked and eyed frustrated Dean. Older hunter shook his head.  
"I barely got a hello from the kids. They are 'shocked' and seems like shock leaves you unable to speak. God.."

Sam let out a bitter laugh and turned around on his chair to see the laptop again. He heard Dean taking off his jacket and dropping it on one of the beds.

"I hope you found something", Dean said appearing next to Sam. Dean took a chair under him, preparing himself for a long explanation about their case. But no, Sam just shook his head.

"No strange deaths, no mistreated, dead people, and as far as I can tell no-one has summoned ghosts to kill, if it's even possible."

Dean sighed. "Old Winchester luck. How about we go check the cemetery? Maybe we find something."

Sam nodded and stood up. He took his suit from his duffel and disappeared to the bathroom. Dean sat on his bed, looking through his own duffel, trying to find his flask John gave him when he turned 17. After a little while he found it, filled it and took a sip. Cool whiskey slid down his throat and it felt good. He didn't remember what was the last time he had drank something alcoholic. Not after he had told Sam..

Dean mentally hit himself. He should have just kept his mouth shut as always, and Sam would still be fine. Everybody would be fine.

His dad's last words echoed in his mind over and over again. _Dean.. you have to save Sam. And if you can't... you'll have to kill him. _Over and over again. Kill Sam. Save Sam. Kill. Save. _  
_

How could John even think Dean could kill Sam? His little brother he had practically raised? Sam, who had seen more evil and felt more hurt than a normal would see and feel in his whole lifetime. And still he walked head up, always strong.

Dean snapped out of it when he heard the bathroom door opening. Sam stepped out, dressed in his best black suit.

"Ready?"  
"Yeah."  
"Where are the badges?"  
"They're in the car."

After a few minutes they reached the cemetery. It was big and old, with an old, stone fence closing the cemetery. Most of the graves were beautiful, and the dates went back to 18th century. Sam looked kind of interested in there as they walked past the graves towards a little group of police men standing in circle.

"Hello. I'm agent Young, this is agent Page", Dean introduced them to the young male police.  
"I didn't know they sent feds", police said. "But now when you're here.. I'm officer Wilson."

Sam shook Wilson's hand. "Can you tell us little bit about what happened? We already tried to talk to the teen boys -witnesses, but they were pretty shaken up and we got nothing useful."

Dean eyed Sam as he took his hand away and looked somehow hopeful. Wilson nodded, starting to walk towards the crime scene.

"We talked to the parents, and they all had information that all of the three boys were staying at one other friend, Daniel Smith.", Wilson started, running his left hand through his light brown hair as they stopped. "What a surprise when Daniel said he hadn't heard of it. After a strict question the youngest boy of the trio -Will- told the truth. They were planning to sleep in the woods, they had tent and sleeping bags, as well ad food and flashlights and everything they needed. They just used the shortcut which goes through this cemetery."

Dean tried to think for a rational answer. Three teens lying to their parents, planning to sleep in the woods, then taking the shortcut. Nothing seemed wrong in that, so why would a ghost attack them? As far as he knew, plenty of people visited the cemetery every day.

"Do you have any idea what could have killed the kid?" Dean asked. Wilson shook his head.  
"We don't know who would do something like that. Elliott was a good kid, everybody in here knew him. He wasn't the smartest boy of the class, but he was nice to everyone, helpful and easy to like."

Sam rolled his eyes when Wilson wasn't looking at him. It was always like that, good kids died first. The ones who could really change things.

"Where did Elliott die? In this exact place?" Sam asked. If there was graved next to his death place, he could be able to narrow down his suspects.

Wilson shook his head and pointed to his left. "You see that figure over there? Our witnesses told he died there. That something grabbed him and killed him."

Sam looked to where Wilson was pointing at and saw a huge statue. "That? Gosh, I know what that is.. I just can't remember." Wilson nodded.

"Yeah. It's pretty famous, well, its lore is. Black Aggie, weeping angel? Rings any bells?"

Sam nodded, starting to walk away. "Thank you for your time, officer", he quickly said and started to walk away. Dean followed him, looking unsure. Sam knew the legend of Black Aggie, it had been first ghost story he was ever told. It had scared the crap out of him when he was little.

In the Impala Dean turned to face Sam.  
"What was that?" he asked.  
"You really don't remember Black Aggie?" Sam asked, sounding a little surprised. "Dean, you told me it. I didn't sleep well for weeks after it."

Dean tried to remember, but came up with nothing. He started the engine and drove off as Sam told him the legend as he knew it. After he was finished Dean looked a little bit confused.

"And how do we kill a statue?"

Sam sighed, crossing his arms, muttering he didn't have a clue. Dean smiled and looked at Sam.  
"Yeah, but you know what? We'll kill it like a boss, but before it we're going to eat in a real restaurant. Warm food sounds delicious."

Sam grinned. Hunger growled in his stomach, and maybe a little bit food would do good. That's why Sam nodded, bringing a smile on Dean's face.  
"Good."

**To be continued... **

**Thanks for reading this chapter!(: reviews are love and keep me writing! :* This is my first case!fic, so honest reviews are gold. **

**I haven't written the next part yet, but it will come out this week. I'm pretty fast when I want to be. :D There's going to be action in the next one, hurt and limp if not even more.. I'm always open for ideas:) **

**~fixusi**


	2. Horrors come at stroke of a midnight

**AN: I FRIGGING HATE MY COMPUTER. I've written this chapter like three times now, and every freaking time it somehow exits and doesn't save. And that's why it took long to post this; I just completely frustrated with this stupid thing and began to write something else. But anyways here I am again, and I hope you like this :D**

After a good meal the Winchesters went back to the motel. Sam was full, and even though he'd never admit it, he really enjoyed the warm food. After days with only cold food -if even that- it felt amazingly good.

"So, what do you think?"

Sam looked at his big brother. "I don't know. There is a ghost for sure, but this.. Black Aggie just distracts me. It's a famous legend, Dean, and no legend is just made up."  
"Tooth fairy is made up."

Sam laughed a bit and saw a little twinkle of joy in the corner of Dean's eye. Sam realized it had been a while since he had last laughed with Dean.

"Yeah, whatever", Sam replied and let himself fall on the chair, pulling his laptop in front of him. "But what I mean is, what if it's not just a legend? What if Black Aggie is alive, and it killed the kid? What would we do then, we can't really kill a statue."

Dean snorted, lied on his bed, relaxing on it. He kicked off his boots and closed his eyes. "I don't know, Sam. We'll figure out what we're dealing with, and then what are we going to do to it. Alright?"

Sighing Sam nodded. "Yeah, okay. I can't think any other way we could deal with it, so okay."  
"Great. Wake me up if you find something", Dean said and grinned. "I'm off."

"I know who it might be", Sam informed loudly and closed his laptop. Dean was standing in the bathroom, washing his hands. There had been nearly three days only questioning people and researching, and for the first time in a long time he really wanted to throw the laptop out of the window.

"Finally."  
"Yeah. Seems like George Flyer, died in mid 70's in that cemetery and was buried there. His cause of death was internal bleeding, just like that kid who died."

Dean nodded and returned to the living room, wiping his wet hands to the back of his jeans. "Alright. So George gets killed and he kills people the same way he was killed?"

Sam looked at Dean and shrugged. "Maybe. It could be."

"You said the dude is buried there? What grave?"  
"I think grave 431."

There was a beat of silence. "It's the grave near Black Aggie", Dean finally said and suddenly looked frustrated. "Just our luck to get the grave next to a psycho killer-statue."

"Tell me about it. I suggest we go there tonight, so it's done before anyone else gets hurt."

Dean shrugged in agreement. "Yeah. Sounds good." Then he headed to the door, wanting to check if they had everything they needed tonight, just in case. Sam sighed and placed his hands over his stomach, trying to silence the hunger growling in there as Dean stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

Younger Winchester closed his eyes for a moment. He felt sick, but he knew he wasn't ill. He hadn't eaten much, only a sandwich now and then to keep Dean happy. He had lost weight a little, and a little of his strength as well, but he just _couldn't _eat. Because he was a monster and his own a father had wanted him dead.

After a few minutes Dean returned, looking satisfied. "We have everything", he told Sam and opened the fridge, taking two beers out. "Matches, salt, lighter fluid, shotguns and ammo. I don't think we'll need anything else."

He handed Sam the other beer. Thanking Sam took it, opening the head of the bottle. "I don't think so, either. Maybe some iron would come handy, though."  
"We always have iron, Sammy."  
"I know."

Clock went forward and suddenly it was night. Dean was sitting on the couch, watching Doctor Sexy MD. He was staring the screen, fully concentrated on the show. Sam managed to see a glimpse of Dean's expression as the scene changed from normal chit-chat to a sex scene. Older hunter started to grin a bit, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

_Mmm, oh, doctor Sexy_- moaned some woman Sam didn't know and grinned at himself. Guilty pleasure, as Dean had said about watching Doctor Sexy, was true, but not the whole of it. It was a pleasure for Dean, sure, but guilty? Not so much. Sam hadn't seen Dean so excited in a long time.

"Hey, I'm sorry to interrupt you and your... _show_", Sam started laughing, "but time to go. I'd like to sleep tonight a little bit as well, not spend the whole night in there."

Dean snorted and shut the TV with the remote. "Yeah, alright."

Following his brother to the Impala, Sam couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Dean might have to kill him. He was going to turn evil, his father had known it, and there was nothing Sam could do about it.

Dying didn't scare him. He was used to see death around, and even though seeing someone die wasn't the nicest thing he could think of, he wasn't afraid of it. If it was his time to die, he would accept it. But there was a little problem in the way; he didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to live because here, on earth, was things to do. He wanted to be with Dean, he wanted to fall in love, he wanted to hunt, he wanted to see different places, he wanted to eat good food, drink beer, save people.. There was so much things he wanted to do. And that's why he didn't want to die, not yet.

What could be so bad that he would have to die? Sam couldn't understand. He knew Dean would do anything he could to save him before he'd lay a finger on him, but it didn't make it any easier. If he was going to turn evil, he would have to die. Which lead him back to the point where he left; he didn't want to die. He didn't want to turn evil.

"You with me?"

Dean's voice brought him back to the reality. "Yeah, yeah.. Just got lost in my thoughts."  
"You looked like it. But we're here, so lets get going."

Sam looked around himself and saw the graveyard. "That was a quick ride", he said as he stepped outside and stretched his legs. Dean walked around Impala and opened the trunk.

"More or less. Here, you take this", he replied, taking a shotgun from the black box and offering it to his little brother. Sam nodded and took it, checking the ammo. After stuffing everything they needed to their duffel, Dean closed the trunk and looked at Sam.

"I'll go first, you watch my back."  
"Alright."

Everything went well for the first ten minutes. They were digging the grave up together, so they'd save some time. But it was still painfully slow thing to do, even if there were two of them in the same grave.

"My back is so going to kill me tomorrow", Dean whined as he made a huge downward swing with his shovel, shoveling away another shovelful of dirt.  
"Tell me about it", Sam breathed, digging his old shovel to the dirt under his legs. "Lets just be glad there aren't any ghosts throwing us around."

"Yet", Dean added, wiping away little bit sweat. "Just wait. No case is ever this easy."

So they dug. After another five minutes they were covered with sweat, but their digging pace never slowed down. They had dug away maybe half a foot dirt when the first hit came. Ghost collided with Dean with such a power that it sent Dean to the ground.

"Son of a bitch", Dean muttered and got up just in time to see George Flyer's ghost appear behind his little brother. Before Dean could even yell and warn Sam, George grabbed Sam and sent him flying backwards. With a little cry he hit the ground, but quickly got to his feet again.

Dean ran forward and got the iron to his hands, then swung the metal through the ghost, making the ghost vanish.

"Dean, the grave", Sam said and nodded to the grave, waiting for someone to dig. "I'll keep an eye on the ghost."  
"Why me?" Dean asked, picking up the shovel and shaking his head. "I swear next time somebody has to do this, it's you."

Sam grinned at Dean. "Quit whining, Dean."

Then, out of nowhere, the ghost of George Flyer's was in front of Sam, making Sam flinch backwards of surprise. He had his own iron in his pocket, and with one, quick movement he had the short pipe in hand. Sam hit the pipe in George's chest, and the ghost vanished with an angry scream.

"Good they don't bury the dead too deep in this state", Dean muttered to himself as he lifted up his gaze to check on Sam. As his little brother seemed okay, he concentrated on the digging again.

"Seems like George is our killer", Sam informed and spun around to make sure the ghost wasn't behind him. "He doesn't seem too friendly."  
"Figured that much myself, Sam", Dean said from the not-too-deep hole he was digging. "Man, I need a beer after this."

"Don't get too excited", Sam laughed. He spun around to make sure George wasn't behind him, almost excepting to see him, but luckily there was just air behind him.

"Why so?"  
"You said it yourself, it's never this easy."

Sam turned around again, holding the pipe in tight grip. Dean was digging as fast as he only could, and sweat was already appearing on his body.

Sam took a step backwards, slowly making a circle. He saw a glimpse of the dark statue called Black Aggie, her hands reaching out as she stared at nothing. The legend was true in at least one thing; it was unbelievably creepy.

As the younger hunter took a step backwards, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. The world spun around once in his eyes and everything blurred for a moment. But then it was all gone, and Sam found himself from the ground, staring at the stars.

"Sam!" he heard a familiar yell, and quickly got up, looking at the direction the noise came from. He was totally surprised by what he saw in front of him; six ghosts. Four men, one woman and one little girl. One of the men was holding Dean in place, tightly pressing his ghost hand on Dean's throat. Dean was struggling, but everybody knew that ghosts couldn't be won in arm wrestling.

Sam raised the iron pipe and started to run towards the ghosts, but was quickly stopped by a slight movement of the man's wrist. Sam flew backwards, hitting the ground with a thump. Iron pipe fell somewhere, where it was out of his sight.

"Crap", Sam muttered as he managed to get up with his shaky legs. Five of the ghosts started to approach him, their hands reaching out to grab his body. Sam backed up, eyeing the ghosts and his older brother.

"You have to leave..." the little girl mumbled. "Leave! Leave!"  
"You are in great danger!", screamed the woman with black, long dress. Her eyes were black and looked like she was crying, but instead of tears a trickles of blood ran down her cheeks.

"I'm coming, Sammy!" shouted Dean, struggling against the old ghost man's hairy arms. He looked like he could have been a cowboy when he was alive, with boots and jeans and leather west.

Just as the young man's spirit was grabbing Sam's arm, the younger Winchester took a long step backwards, his back hitting something big and solid. He spun around only to see a huge statue just as it closed its arms over Sam's torso and pulled him close to its stony chest.

Sam cried out as he felt his ribs snap. Pain was overwhelming. Every second felt like more bones would snap, more muscles would cramp and more pain would come.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, his heart jumping to his throat. He placed his hands on the ghost's hands and tried to pull himself free, failing. Sam's scream echoed to his ears.

"You son of a bitch! Let me go!" Dean cried out, struggling to get free. And then, as if the ghost had obeyed, he was free. Falling to the ground, Dean reached out to get his shotgun and then started to run towards his suffering little brother. His own throat was killing him -the ghost hadn't kept very loose grip- but Sam was all that mattered to him at the moment.

Sam felt the hold around his waist getting tighter and tighter every moment. His arms were pinned between the weeping angel's grip and his own sides. Pain was hot and white, and all over his body. He kicked with his legs as if it would make a difference to the situation, but it was the only thing he could do.

"Dean!" He screamed as the hold suddenly tightened around him, making him feel like his arms would snap any moment now. He felt blood wetting his shirt, and all of a sudden he felt like he would pass out. World started to spin around him, and all he could think of was pain. Pain in his side, pain in his arms, pain in his chest.

Dean shot the statue, not surprising when it did nothing. Not bothering to shoot again, he ran the couple of feet to Sam and saw the terror on his brother's face.

"Sam! I'm gonna get you out, okay? Just breathe through the pain, it'll be alright!"

Sam's eyes were closed but Dean knew he was awake from the struggling and kicking. Another scream escaped from Sam's lips. Dean felt like he couldn't breathe.

Without warning there were two ghosts beside Dean. He flinched in surprise, but doesn't pay attention to them any more. He had to get Sam out; his breathing became slower and more disjointed by every breath he took.

And then Dean flew in the air, hitting the ground about five feet from the statue. "Sons of a-"  
"We are trying to help him!" Screamed the little girl, who was now standing in front of Dean.

Male and the female ghosts approached the statue, touching the stone with their fingers. Both of them closed their eyes, everything coming bright. Brightness grew every second, and Dean, who had had just enough time to get up, closed his eyes and turned away from the bright light.

Screaming -not Sam this time, Dean noticed- and finally a darkness.

All of the ghosts were gone. Sam was laying on the ground limp, looking unconscious. Dean was by his side in seconds, tapping his cheek carefully.

"Sam! Sammy? Come on man, wake up!" Dean pleaded, quickly glancing up at the statue. Realizing it could still reach them, he took Sam's wrists inside his fists and moved him a little bit forward, making distance between them and the cold Black Aggie.

"Fuck..." Dean mumbled as he lifted up Sam's shirt to examine his sides. It was covered with purple-blue bruises which meant broken bones, and blood was covering his hands and his upper ribs.

"Sam, please", Dean said, beginning to panic a little bit. "Wake up! I can't carry you, not anymore, you are not the little kid you used to be, right?" He tried to laugh, but failed.

Panic was really starting to settle in. He couldn't know how serious Sam's injuries were; he was still breathing and his heart was still beating, but everything else couldn't be known. So Dean did what a normal man would do in his situation. He called 911.

* * *

As the paramedics came and rushed Sam away, they told Dean he couldn't ride with them. After a few carefully picked words and curses Dean sat in the Impala and drove behind the ambulance. Tears were beginning to leak out of his eyes, but he didn't let them fall.

"Sam, I swear to you, if you are not okay, I will kick your ass", Dean muttered, grinning a little bit, but never feeling happy. No, he felt everything else but happy. He was sad, angry, worried, pissed and anxious. He just wanted to know if Sam was okay.

As he finally made it to the hospital, Sam was still unconscious. "Sam!" Yelled Dean as he saw him. Dean, whose big brother side had taken over his manners, started to walk quickly towards his little brother, but he was stopped by a beautiful nurse he would normally flirt with.

"Come on, let me go with him!" Dean said angrily, trying to storm past the nurse.  
"I'm afraid that's not going to happen", the nurse said strictly and stepped in front of Dean again. "You can see Samuel when his condition has been stabilized. Meanwhile I have some questions to ask."

Dean's eyes widened. "Whoa, wait, what? stabilized? What's wrong with him?"

Nurse sighed, her brown eyes locked with Dean's green ones. "I don't know much yet, sir.."  
"Dean, just call me Dean."  
"Dean. As I said, I don't know much. All I know is that your brother is in bad condition and he had a major blood loss. He wouldn't have survived more than an hour without help."

Dean froze. "He's gonna be alright, right? He has to be."  
"All I know is that there are many good, if not best, doctors and nurses treating him. Just follow me, Dean, I have a couple of questions for you."

Dean saw Sam again as he walked past an open door. Sam was laying on a bed that looked like to be too hard to lay comfortably on. But that doesn't worry Dean.

By the time he had given all the answers the nurse needed and he sat down to wait, time seemed to slow down. Every five minutes Dean glanced at the clock. He was tired, he was sore, he was hungry. But all he did was sit on the uncomfortable, cold chair and wait. Because he wouldn't sleep, eat or leave anywhere before Sam could do it with him.

**TBC..**

**I hope you liked this chapter :) I'll post another one sooner, I promise. I didn't have beta with this chapter, but I promise I tried to make as few grammar mistakes as possible.**

**Reviews are always love! 3 **

**-Fiia**


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